


I Would Give My Life To Be

by Inkforwords



Series: It's the little things [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Gen, M/M, Mentions of Character Death, Panic Attack, Season 3 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 12:51:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/867748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkforwords/pseuds/Inkforwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles confronts Derek about pushing everyone away. Derek does what he does best and goes a little further, pushing Stiles away as well. Set after 3x04.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Would Give My Life To Be

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by Ellie Goulding's song Human.

Derek hears Stiles’ heart beating swiftly and is up from the couch before Cora can even turn around from her spot near the window, eyebrows raised. The alarm hadn’t sounded, so she has no reason to worry. He gets to the sliding steel door just as Stiles is hauling it open and Derek is slammed with the pungent scent of anger and fear and hurt, a thick almost tainted spice instead of his bright, earthy clove. He wants to intercept him and talk to him in the hall, giving them some sort of privacy, but Stiles’ heartbeat is hammering against his chest and his breathing is almost ragged, it makes Derek stop short when he takes in Stiles’ disheveled appearance.

He barely gets a good look at him, briefly taking in the way Stiles’ eyes narrow in anger before his fist is connecting with Derek’s jaw. His head snaps back from the impact and he registers Stiles’ hiss of pain and Cora’s startled inhale. She’s only met Stiles’ once, but his scent practically permeates the loft, so she knows he's at least a friend. More than a friend, his brain supplies.

“You son of a bitch.” Stiles snarls, Derek slowly opens his eyes, taking in Stiles’ heaving shoulders, the splotches of red on his cheeks, his bright golden brown eyes. Derek rotates his jaw, letting the pain blossom because he knows he deserves it. While he wasn’t expecting the punch, he knows he could have easily deflected it.

Derek closes his eyes briefly, listening to Stiles’ quick breaths and his even quicker heartbeat. He’s literally shaking with anger and Derek has never been around him when he’s this angry, this quiet or this still. Usually when he’s angry he goes on and on and flails his arms in wild gestures. He recalls the dozen or more missed calls on his phone, the ignored text messages and voicemails. He’d hoped Stiles would get a hint at the ‘don’t come over anymore, too much stuff to handle right now,’ text that Derek had sent him. It was a lie of course and it was no surprise that Stiles was here, most likely to call Derek out on his lie.

He opens his eyes to see Stiles staring at him with a look of hurt and anger, his breathing has slowed down a little. “What do you want Stiles?” Derek asks, crossing his arms, trying to make himself look a little larger. Stiles hasn’t been intimidated by him in months, so he doesn’t know why he’s bothering. Given the way Stiles’ eye twitches and his fists clench a little more tightly at his side, that was not what he wanted to hear.

“A little clarity on why you’re not answering your phone would be nice, since you are in fact, alive.” Stiles says. Derek resists the urge to roll his eyes at Stiles' dramatics and well, he's sure he'll get hit again if he does.

"I've been a little busy." He says instead, quietly almost, and wonders how Stiles can manage to look so vulnerable even when he's radiating this much anger.

"With what exactly?" Stiles snaps. Derek opens his mouth to say something but Stiles shuts him down almost immediately, continuing on. "You don't seem to care about the people dying since we figured out it's not the sociopathic pack of alphas that are in town. People are dying and you're just sitting up here in your little wolf den pretending that nothing else matters since you found Cora." Derek lets out a low growl at that, but it doesn't stop Stiles from speaking. "No. Don't even do that. You have no right to be angry right now. You know who does? Me. I have every right to be angry. You've been ignoring me for days. Scott wont let me help with the leads on the sacrifices because Isaac says it's not a good idea. And you know what, screw that because Lydia, Deaton and I were the ones that figured this shit out and now we're being left out."

"Stiles, I don't have time to listen this right now." Derek says, knowing full well the reaction he's going to get. It's one he wants, because he wants Stiles to be upset with him and this will intensify his anger.

Stiles' jaw twitches and anger flares in his eyes as his scent turns bitter. "No. You have time for this, because I had time for you all summer. I helped you look for Boyd and Erica while Scott was off on the "Bettering Scott McCall program" and ignoring everyone all summer. I was there Derek, I helped you, I'm still helping you. And I know you. I know you're doing this, whatever this thing with ignoring my calls, kicking Isaac out and not talking to Scott or Boyd, for a reason. You never do something unless it's for a reason, and I know that." Stile says, his voice tapering off to almost a whisper as he finishes.

Derek swallows thickly, wondering when Stiles became so good at reading him and at knowing him so well. "Cora and I just need time to ourselves for now." Derek knows it's a shitty lie, even if there is some truth to it. Stiles glances over his shoulder, eyes cutting to Cora who is still there, watching everything.

"That is such a bullshit excuse. You wouldn't have kicked Isaac out for that." Stiles says, crossing his eyes with a defiant look. Damn him, he was always too stubborn for his own good, something he and Erica had in common. "What aren't you telling everyone? I know someone came here unannounced the day you kicked him out. I checked the security logs." Stiles says and of course he did, because he helped Derek install them.

"Nothing happened. Just go home Stiles, I don't have time for this." Derek says, thinking of turning away, but Stiles would only follow further into the loft. Instead he gestures at the door with one hand, indicating that Stiles should leave. He doesn't.

"You don't have time for this conversation, or you don't have time for anyone other than yourself and your new pack member?" Stiles says and there is the million dollar question, one that Derek was dreading. Stiles' eyes have narrowed again, hands clenching the bottom of his zipper hoodie and Derek meets his eyes. Stiles knows how important it has been to him to find out Cora was alive. He didn't bring Derek that case file on the Hale fire for nothing. He knows Stiles has nothing against Cora, he doesn't exactly like her that much, but Derek knows that Stiles is just trying to get a reaction out of him.

"Don't go there." He says, hating the way Stiles' fingers tighten their hold and his heartbeat rackets up. He turns away from Stiles then, hoping he'll leave.

"You are full of shit." Stiles says quietly. "Are you seriously just going to let go of Isaac, just like that. He trusts you and you do this to him?" Derek knows that it's a loaded statement, not only about Isaac but about Stiles too. How they had worked together this summer and learned to trust each other, learned to tolerate each other before it turned into something more. “I know you’re pushing him away for a reason, but there are other ways, like explaining what’s going on. Last time you did this, people nearly died. Jackson did die." Stiles says, spitting out the words and Derek fully remembers the events of last fall, very vividly. He can even recall the small scars that now scatter across Stiles' left cheek and the little white line that curls under his lip from that night.

"And Jackson is alive again. Apparently living the lap of luxury in London. It worked out in the end." Derek says.

"Because of Scott! It worked out because Scott knew what Gerard was planning and had his own plan! You just left everyone in the dark because you thought it was protecting them. It wasn't." Stiles practically shouts.

Derek growls low in his chest, turning around to face Stiles again. "Scott didn't tell anyone what he was planning either."

"That is not the point! Scott withheld his plan. You withheld information, just like you're doing now. Something happened. What happened to trusting each other?" Stiles says, his voice almost hitching even though his tone is even, his heart still slamming in his chest. He's still furious. "You're just going to sacrifice yourself again, aren't you?" Stiles whispers, glancing over at Cora who is still watching silently.

Derek remains silent, because if he has to he will. The look Stiles gives him has him wanting to open his mouth, to reassure him that it's not completely what he's going to do. He's got a plan and admittedly it's a terrible one, like all his plans usually are, there was a reason Laura was meant to be the alpha and a reason Cora is disappointed in him.

"We- we talked about this." Stiles murmurs, looking away and down at his fingers still clenched around his hoodie. They didn’t, Derek remembers. It was the day after they'd gotten Boyd and Cora, had them safe at Deaton's house while he monitored them. Derek had come back to sleep on Deaton's orders. Stiles had shown up after school, angry and white knuckled, smelling like death and hospital, having come from showing Scott the bodies of the kids that had died. Stiles had told him about the virgins dying, about Heather, about how there were going to be more deaths soon and Derek hadn't said anything, much like right now.

Stiles had yelled at him to say something, to say anything and Derek had, told him they'd deal with it later and that set Stiles off. He'd started shouting about things that Scott had told him, about Ms. Blake and how Derek had been used as a scratching post and that he had people who cared about him and he had to stop with the self sacrificing bullshit.

Derek had let him get his anger out, until Stiles was panting and pink-cheeked, asking him if he was finished. Stiles had said no and launched himself at Derek, grabbing his face and kissing him hard, biting at his bottom lip, telling him how much he hated him, his heartbeat thumping wildly at the lie. It wasn't unfamiliar, kissing Stiles and Derek had wrapped his arms around Stiles' waist, hauled him up onto the table and kissed him until Stiles was panting and out of breath for a different reason.

It was the first time they had let themselves go further than the heavy petting and blowjobs they'd given each other throughout August. Derek needing Stiles as much Stiles needed him in that moment. It had been quick and hurried, with Stiles pressed against the table, Derek losing himself in the heat of Stiles' body, Stiles’s fingers scrabbling for purchase on the table, coming with a loud shout. The second time Derek had been slow, mapped Stiles' body with his mouth, took his time with slow deep thrusts, taking Stiles apart, making him beg, ripping every sound imaginable out of him.

Afterwards Stiles had gotten a call from Scott, pulled on his clothes and left with a quick kiss to Derek’s lips a promise to continue things later. That never happened. Things happened. And here they are now. They’d hadn’t actually talked about it, agreed on anything. Stiles had talked and Derek had listened, but he had never agreed to anything and maybe that was part of the problem, Stiles thinking that Derek’s silence meant something else. Derek knows he's a terrible person for thinking that way, but that's just how it is.

“So you’re just going to stand there and say nothing. Just continue to push people away who are trying to help you?” Stiles says flatly, his spiced scent curling even more sour.

Derek doesn’t say anything, but he feels his jaw set tightly and he can tell by the brief flash of hurt in Stiles’ eyes that Stiles takes it as it is, a yes.

“What about-” he starts softly, licking his lips, his pulse skipping a beat with his sudden spike of nervousness. Derek knows what’s coming and he feels the thick coil of guilt in stomach weighing him down. “What about us?” He says it so softly, so brokenly, that Derek can’t help but let his eyes flutter closed briefly when Stiles glances down at his shoes while finishing his statement.

"There is no us." Derek says, wanting to shout it, so maybe Stiles will get it and leave, but he knows that shouting at Stiles has always led him to just shout back and do something stupid. So he says it quietly and firmly and Stiles’ head shoots up, eyes going wide with hurt and anger. “You think that I’m your boyfriend?” He snarls, watching as Stiles’ mouth goes slack and his fists clench. “You were convenient Stiles, that’s all.” Derek says, shoving away the bitter taste of those words in his mouth. He’s using Stiles’ words against him and he knows it’s a terrible thing to do, but it was the same way with Isaac, he needed something to get them to go away. Everyone always said he was great at ruining everything. He doesn't even try to deny it anymore. He hears Cora’s quiet inhale at his lie and he swallows thickly, staring Stiles down.

Stiles’ heartbeat stutters, but he's pulling his arm back and punching Derek in the face again. Derek hears a crack of bone and thinks it might be his nose, or Stiles' knuckles, he's not entirely sure. He tastes blood though. "Fuck you," Stiles spits out and turns around, cradling his wrist to his chest. Cora growls behind him, feet soft against the cement floor as she takes a few steps towards him and Derek waves her away.

Stiles gives him one more withering look as Derek wipes at his mouth. "Get the fuck out." He snarls, eyes flaring red. Stiles does this time, with a rabbit quick heart and stuttering breaths. Derek watches him go, watches as Stiles turns his back on him, like Derek has done to him. His breath leaves him a like a punch to the stomach, he almost chokes on it as he drops to his knees. One hand goes out to steady himself on the steel door to the loft, and he realizes that Stiles hadn't even made it five feet inside the door.

"Don't," he croaks at Cora when she moves closer to him. He presses his forehead against the door and listens for Stiles. He's walking quickly to the lift, throwing open the grate, his heart beating quickly, his breaths starting to come quicker. Derek needs to hear this, not only because the look on Stiles’ face made something cold unfurl in his gut, but because hearing this will be like a knife twisting into his heart, something he knows he deserves. He never deserved to have Stiles, not even the little parts that he kept and took and stored away for safekeeping every time Stiles got into the Jeep that summer with a bitter scent and disappointment in his eyes, Derek always thinking he wouldn’t come back.

But he did and Derek's feelings grew and blossomed into something they shouldn't have. He was too old, Stiles too young, the same age Derek had been when Kate took everything from him. He'd trusted her and Stiles trusted him and it's not the same, Derek knows it isn't. But Stiles had grown to trust him, had given him little parts of himself that he could never give to Scott, his dad or even Lydia. Little things that Derek took to be precious and cradled them close so no one else could ever have them. And now, now he's gone and thrown it all in Stiles' face, shoved everything back at him, ripped him apart in order to keep him safe.

So in some sick way he makes himself listen to Stiles have a panic attack, his quickening pulse, the creak of his body hitting one of barred walls of the lift, his body sliding down until he's sitting on the floor, his breaths coming in quick, ragged gasps. He needs it because it's punishment, because Stiles being hurt hurts him in return, makes his instincts howl making him want to claw at everything and take Stiles back into his arms and hold him and tell him to breath and that he'll take care of him, tell him that everything will be okay.

He hears the distant sound of ringing and then the Sheriff's voice. _"Stiles, I'm busy, can I-"_ the Sheriff starts with a frustrated tone and stops when Stiles lets outs a ragged breath.

"Dad..."Stiles chokes out, not quite a sob but almost. Derek lets out a heavy breath and reaches to grab a hold of Cora's shirt to hold her in place from her spot next to him.

 _"Oh crap. Okay, hey it's okay, just, breath,"_ the Sheriff says his tone softening. "Where are you? I'll come and get you." He says and Stiles moans something out among his heavy breathing. It sounds like a no. " _Okay, okay..."_ he says, sighing over the line. _"Like we used to, 1,2,3, breathe....okay again...1,2,3, breathe...there we go..."_ He says and Derek lets the Sheriff's voice fade out, concentrating on Stiles' slowly breathes and his heartbeat as he calms down, listening to his father's voice.

Derek jerks slightly when he hears the loud groan of the lift starting up and bringing Stiles down to his Jeep. Cora has a hand in his hair and Derek shifts, wraps his arms around her middle and presses his face against her hip, inhaling the long forgotten scent of family, of his old pack. "Derek..." She whispers softly, fingers running through his hair when he lets out a small whine, breaths uneven against the cotton of her shirt. "You didn't have to push him away..." She whispers and Derek just lets go of her, letting his arms fall uselessly to his sides and she makes a noise in the back of her throat and crouches down in front of him.

He stares at her with dull eyes, the dull ache of pushing Stiles away feels like it's growing, like it's going to consume him. She takes his face in her hands and he looks into her dark brown eyes, so much like his father's it makes him shiver. She's just like Laura, strong, beautiful, ready for a fight if need be, it's the first time they've comforted each other, if he can even call this comfort.

She's not the little girl he used to know, being on her own has changed that. It doesn’t mean he still doesn’t crave the comfort that her being family offers him. She doesn’t know how much Stiles has done for him, for her. He’d have died from a wolfsbane bullet or drowned in a pool if it hadn’t been for Stiles. He thinks of all the little things around the loft that are going to be constant reminders. Stiles’ folklore and mythology books that have stacked up in places, the beastiary copies that he and Lydia had translated and printed out for him. The couch that they grabbed from a garage sale with Isaac, the bed and blankets that Stiles dragged him to IKEA to buy because if he wasn’t going to have proper furniture he was at least going to have a proper bed.

The file folder tucked under his mattress with the documents from the Hale Fire. Even the police scanner in his car. All little things are things that Stiles has given him and that doesn’t count the first kiss, a stormy summer day where they were caught in the rain, out looking for furniture because it was a bulk garage day and everyone in Beacon Hills was throwing things out. Stiles had laughed until he was wheezing at Derek’s new car, both of them dripping wet and Stiles’ cheeks splotchy and pink. Derek had kissed him then and he’d tasted like warm summer rain and made the softest, surprised noise that Derek took and held and cherished. Every time they kissed seemed like a surprise to Stiles.

Or the first time he’d woken up and Stiles was there, fast asleep, long lashes curling against his cheeks, his mouth parted, face smushed against his arm, his body at an almost impossible angle. It didn’t matter that he’d been drooling or that there were papers scattered around the bed, a book digging into his own hip and the air in the loft was sticky and humid because they’d left the windows open. What mattered was that Stiles was there.

He barely registers Cora’s voice telling him that it’ll be okay again once they defeat Deucalion. It won't be, because he won't have his pack, he won't have his family, he won't have Stiles because he’s pushed them all away, hurt them so they don't want to come back. Derek’s head droops, his shoulders slump, letting the ache of pushing Isaac, Erica, Boyd, Stiles and even Scott away wash over him.

Besides the only thing that matters once they do defeat Deucalion is that the rest of them make it out alive. Derek’s had a long time to come to terms with the fact that they’re all better off without him. He’s resigned himself to knowing he was never going to make it out of all this alive.

**Author's Note:**

> This wasn't exactly how I wanted it to go, but thinking of a scene when you can't sleep and then figuring you'll remember it in the morning never works, so I worked with what I remembered. 
> 
> So slight canon divergence from the actual time line, but I'm keeping with it as best I can. Basically this takes place about a week after Derek is greeted by the Alpha Pack in his loft. And before the events of 3x05, since I was nearly finished with it before that episode aired and didn't want to change anything. The next scene will most likely be based on 3x05, from Cora's P.O.V. if I think I can enough of a voice from her. If not it'll be Scott.
> 
> tumblr is cutewolfboys!


End file.
